


tender is the night

by twilightstargazer



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Season Finale Speculation, lbr this isn't spec this is straight up wishful thinking, post season 4 speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 15:12:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10993482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightstargazer/pseuds/twilightstargazer
Summary: Finally, he wrenches his eyes shut and says, “May we meet again,” voice thick, and Raven pretends not to notice when he lifts a hand to swipe at his eyes.Clarke doesn’t even make an attempt to hide the hitch in her breath on the other end, and it feels like someone has his heart in their fist, squeezing it until he can’t even breathe.“We will,” she murmurs, so quiet that it’s almost lost amongst the crackle of static. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily Bellamy Blake.”or, a five year separation and everything that comes with it





	tender is the night

**Author's Note:**

> (title unashamedly stolen from an f scott fitzgerald book of the same name) yes i know the season finale is in like 20 minutes okay this was supposed to be a short reunion fic that i promised meha ([who_needs_reality](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Who_Needs_Reality/pseuds/Who_Needs_Reality)) but as always things spiraled and here we are.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _I do love you - I can’t change that._

**_Day 5_ **

“You have enough food down there? Water?”

“Yeah; there’s enough supplies in the lab to last me a while.”

He frowns at the radio. “I thought you were staying in the bunker after the death wave passes.”

“I am,” says Clarke, “But Raven and I both agreed that I should wait it out a few more days before making the trek to the other side of the island. Just in case.”

It’s sound logic, and he tells her as much, but it still doesn’t stop him from worrying. That bunker was built for a nuclear apocalypse. It makes the lab seem flimsy by comparison, and he swallows heavily.

They lapse into silence, clumsy and awkward, and he finds himself slumping forward, head hanging low as his knuckles go white with the force he’s clutching the radio with. It’s been a hard couple of days. Having to leave her down there on her own, with limited supplies and in the face of death, was one of the worst moments of his life.

Almost as if she can hear his thoughts, she says, soft, “Bellamy, I’m fine.”

“I know it’s just-”

“There was nothing you could do. Nothing anyone could do, really.”

“Stop trying to make me feel better,” he tells her, a smile tugging at his lips for the first time in days.

“No,” she shoots back, quick, and a he chuckles halfheartedly.

He takes a shaky breath, staring out of the window down at earth. Even from hundreds of miles up it was still a hazy yellow, an unpleasant reminder that made his gut clench.

“Just,” he starts, tugging a hand through his hair. “Just be careful. _Please_.”

“I will,” she says solemnly, “I promise.”

-

**_Day 0 (t-minus 8 hours)_ **

There is a lot of work that needed to be done before they could even so much as _think_ about heading back to the ark, and Raven is beside herself. In excitement or frustration, no one could really tell. She almost seems to be _vibrating_ with energy.

“It’s gonna be a tight fit,” she says, scribbling notes along the margin of the rocket’s blueprints. There is a calculator next to her, as well as a notepad with more symbols than numbers, all of which makes Bellamy’s head spin. “And it’s probably going to be the most uncomfortable ride of your life.”

“As long as it gets us all up in one piece, I really don’t give a damn if I have Murphy’s knee in my gut the entire time,” he says, trying to peek over her shoulder at the notes. He hears Clarke’s not so quiet snort behind him and bites back a grin.

He doesn’t have any good memories of space- none of them do- but watching Clarke, watching the others coupled off and getting to work to help bring them up safely, he can’t help that think that maybe this time it’ll be different. Maybe this time they could make some good memories.

“I thought this was a two seater?” Clarke asks, surveying the rocket with a critical eye. “How is it gonna manage to take eight of us back up to space? That seems a bit more than just a _tight fit_.”

“Not easily,” says Raven, scribbling something down on her notepad. She looks over at them. “We should have enough fuel to take us back up, and the plan is to bring the rest of the Ark down when it’s safe. So I have five years to work on _that_ problem.”

She walks over to the rocket, pulling the door up and allowing them to look inside. “The more weight it carries, the more fuel it needs to get us up in the air. I’m already planning on getting the chairs out so we can all squeeze in like sardines, but I’m waiting on Monty to come back to figure out what else is nonessential.” She lets the hatch drop back down and turns to them, a sharp grin gracing her features. “We’re gonna fix this baby up Watney style.”

Clarke looks over at Bellamy, tapping his foot with hers. “Any idea what that means?” she asks under her breath.

His lips twitch. “Not a clue.”

Raven just rolls her eyes, but her smile doesn’t dull. “Go. We need to get the oxygenator on board as well as any supplies we can spare. And I need to do my final calculations to see just how much of this I can manage to strip down.”

“Yes ma’am,” he says, picking up his helmet.

On their way out, Clarke’s hand finds his, giving it a light squeeze. “We might actually survive this thing,” she says, a tinge of awe colouring her tone.

He doesn’t remind her that getting up there is just step one, and a million different things can still go wrong. Instead, he squeezes back, and when she doesn’t pull her hand away immediately, he tentatively links their fingers, wishing he could feel the heat of her skin through the rubber gloves.

He can’t see her face through the glare bouncing off her helmet, but he’s pretty sure she ducks her head and smiles. It makes his face warm.

“We really might,” he says, and actually allows himself to believe it.

-

**_Day 18_ **

“I finally made contact with the bunker.”

“Yeah? We tried but their sats aren’t built for this level of long range. Especially after the death wave hit. How is everyone?”

“They’re doing… okay,” she says, choosing her words wisely, and it makes Bellamy sit up in his chair. “The arkers are still on edge. They don’t trust the grounders.”

He snorts. “I can’t blame them.”

“ _Bellamy_ ,” she chides gently, and he can almost picture the exasperated wrinkle she gets between her eyebrows.

“What? Most of us don’t exactly have any positive experiences with them.”

“Yeah but,” she sighs on the other end, the radio crackling unpleasantly as she shuffles about. “They’re the last of the human race. You would think that they would just put aside their petty differences and _get along_.”

“Have you _met_ the grounders?” he asks, unable to help himself, and she huffs on the other end. “Holding on to those petty differences is in the job description.”

“You’re terrible,” she sniffs, but even here, almost 250 miles above earth with nothing more than a shitty connection between them, he can hear her smile through the radio.

“Most people find me charming,” he teases.

“The inability to trust and forgive coupled with morbid humour, every girl’s dream. You’re a real catch.” She pretends to swoon, but her words don’t carry the sarcastic edge he expected. If anything she sounds wistful.

He lets it slide, saying instead, “As long as you know it. Now tell me how they’re handling the fact that everything surrounding them is science…”

-

**_Day 0 (t-minus 4 hours)_ **

“You know, I’m actually looking forward to the next five years,” Clarke says, panting a bit as she helps him carry the oxygenator from the lighthouse back to the lab. “It’s been a while since I could sleep for more than a few hours at a time.”

He looks amusedly at her. “You plan on playing Sleeping Beauty for the next five years, princess?”

She sticks out her tongue at him. “I _plan_ on getting the rest that I deserve,” she says, “And you should too. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you take more than a cat nap.”

“I’m not one much for sleeping,” he confesses. “Even back on the Ark I had to be a light sleeper. Surprise inspections happened more often than usual in Factory station, and someone had to make sure they didn’t catch O.”

Clarke quietens at that, and for a moment there’s nothing but the sound of snow crunching underfoot, their breaths echoing throughout their suits.

Finally she says, “Well then all the more reason for you to have a rest when we get up there. I’ll stand outside your door for a full eight hours to make sure you get it.”

They stop in front the doors to the lab, and Clarke braces her hands on her knees, catching her breath, while Bellamy remains unaffected, punching in the code to open the door. He thinks she mutters ‘show off’ under her breath, but he can’t be sure.

They lug the machine inside and he waits until after the first door has whooshed shut before prying his helmet off. Clarke does the same, and he shoulders open the second door into the lab.

“Alright, so sleep,” he says, setting the oxygenator down on Raven’s work station. “What else are you gonna do?”

She shrugs, tugging off her gloves, and he follows her up to Becca’s office to take a breather. “Raid the digital library maybe?” Then she starts, a smile blooming across her face. “Or maybe if I find a chess set I could teach you how to play.”

“I know how to play chess.”

“I could teach you how to play chess _well_ ,” she adds on with a smirk. “You’re the worst player I’ve ever seen, and I used to play with Wells.”

Bellamy just makes a face and throws the canteen he was drinking from at her. “Shut up Clarke.”

-

**_Day 52_ **

“Becca’s mansion has an entire library. I mean, I knew she had a lot of books, but holy _fuck_. This is a lot of books.”

He smiles at the awe in Clarke’s voice, fidgeting with the piece of metal in his hands absentmindedly. “Yeah? What are you reading?”

She hesitates just long enough for him to know that she’s mildly embarrassed by her literature choices, and he grins.

“The first book of _The Canon of Medicine_ ,” she starts, and is quick to defend herself when he starts laughing, bright and loud. There’s a huff on the end of it, and he knows that if she were here in person she would have stomped her foot, like she always did when she got upset. “It’s referred to as a medical bible, and even though it’s old and outdated, it’s still pretty interesting. It’s a _classic_ okay Bellamy, you don’t get to laugh when I know you’re probably reading one of the old history lessons stored in the Ark’s library.”

He is actually reading one on the civil war, but he’s not about to tell her that she’s _right_.

“Nerd,” he tosses out casually.

“Takes one to know one,” she shoots back, and he laughs again. “So what have you been up to, boring history lessons aside.”

He sets the metal piece- a knight- down on the control board. “Well Murphy found a chessboard. He’s been trying to get me to play him but apparently I’m so bad that he couldn’t last more than twenty minutes dealing with me.”

“I can relate,” she says wryly, and he sucks on his teeth in annoyance.

“Shut up and tell me about this library.”

“That’s an oxymoron,” she quips, and he wishes for the millionth time that she was here just so she could see him flip her off. She tells him anyway, and he goes back to playing with the chess piece, listening to her speak.

-

**_Day 0 (t-minus 2 hours)_ **

“You talked to your mom?” he asks, after he’s done speaking to Octavia.

Clarke, apparently lost in her thoughts, starts from where she was leaning against the wall of the office. She looks up at him with a tired smile.

“Yeah. She’s not on board with this plan at all though, she made that _quite_ clear.”

“It’s the only shot we’ve got.”

“I know,” she sighs, “She just thinks that going back up there is condemning ourselves to a slower death.” She slumps back against the wall, rubbing her eyes. “It’s just exhausting you know? Here we are trying are best and she doesn’t have in hope in us.”

She looks so small and tired that he doesn’t know what else to do except cross the room and slowly wrap his arms around her in a hug.

At first she’s stiff, but as he draws her closer, resting his chin atop her head, she relaxes, hands coming up to grasp at him, just as tightly. They just stand there for several long moments, Bellamy breathing her in while Clarke takes shaky breaths in an attempt to calm down.

“We’re going to get through this,” he promises, breath hot against her skin. He ducks his head, pressing a dry kiss to her temple before pulling away.

Clarke’s eyes are still glossy, and she swipes at them, blinking the moisture away. She’s still close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating off of her, close enough that he knows when she finally resolves herself to this, lifting her chin as her breath evens out.

“We’re going to get through this,” she says, nodding, and then with one last glance at Bellamy, one last half smile, she turns on her heel and heads back down into the lab to help them.

-

**_Day 93_ **

“I went down to the skybox today.”

“Really? I would have thought that you would have gone before now.”

He shrugs even though no one is there to see it. “I just didn’t think about it before now,” he lies.

It was one of the first things he thought about when he finally came to terms of being back on the Ark without Clarke. He always kept on delaying it because going there, where the delinquents were locked away, where his _friends_ were put to wait for their deaths, was more than he could handle.

And the fact that he knew Clarke’s cell was somewhere down there too.

Somehow that would just make it all the more real, that she was supposed to be here with him, but isn’t, and Bellamy was more than happy to pretend that the lower deck of the ring didn’t exist.

Except he finally broke today, because now it’s official that this is the longest period of time he’s gone without seeing Clarke Griffin ever since he met her, and he didn’t know what to do with that knowledge, so he let himself finally head down there where he spent most of the day in her cell.

He knows that she draws, but he’s never actually seen any of them before, not like this.

It’s all done in charcoal, dark and smudgy, and after being on earth for the past seven months he knows that things don’t really look like that anymore, but they’re still breathtaking. He just sits on her cot and tries to take in everything, wishing she was next to him to explain each piece to him.

“You vandalised your cell,” is what he ends up saying.

“It’s not _vandalism_ ,” she splutters. “I didn’t _destroy_ anything.”

“It counts as graffiti and graffiti is vandalism, Clarke,” he says, lips twitching with the urge to smile.

“... shut up.”

“How’d you even get the charcoal anyway?” he asks, ignoring her. “You were in solitary. You wouldn’t have been allowed visitors.”

“My mom would slip it in with my meals. Drawing was the only thing that kept me sane in a year by myself.”

“Are you drawing now?” he asks despite himself. She was by herself on an island after all. He would hope that she’s doing whatever she could to take care of herself. “To help you cope?”

“Yeah, but I don’t need it as much,” she says airily.

“Why?”

“Because I have you,” she says, easy as anything, and he almost slides off his chair in shock. “I get to talk to you almost everyday and it’s- I don’t know what I would do without you Bellamy.”

It takes him several tries to get his mouth back working again after she dropped that bombshell on him, and even then he still couldn’t find the right words. This was just like Clarke, always letting things like that slip almost as though they were facts. Something warm settles in his stomach when he thinks about it, that this is how she truly feels about him.

“I don’t know what I would do without you either,” he says, gruff, after a beat of silence, and she just hums in response.

-

**_Day 0 (t-minus one hour)_ **

Raven anxiously tugs on her gloves, going over her calculations one last time.

“Alright,” she says, glancing up at them, “Everything that could be stripped is stripped, essentials are loaded, and by my calculations we should be able to make it up there with about a quarter tank of fuel to spare.”

Clarke is shaking slightly next to him and he reaches out, pressing his hand to the small of her back, grounding her. She flashes him a grateful smile.

“I have less than one hour to full system check and make sure that we really do get there in one piece. This kind of thing takes time so when I say ready, you all better run like hell to get in here. We can’t waste a single second.”

There are murmurs of assent throughout the group and Raven turns her back on them, enlisting the help of Monty to help run the final check.

He doesn’t know when Clarke’s hand weaved into his, but it’s there now, fingers interlocked with his and he can almost pretend to feel her pulse racing through her veins.

She squeezes his hand and he squeezes back.

-

**_Day 139_ **

“I have good news and bad news,” she greets him, “Pick which one you want first.”

“Are you hurt?” he asks immediately, mind jumping to the worst possible conclusion.

“I’m _fine_ , stop always assuming I’m hurt,” she says, exasperated.

He snorts. “Yeah, not going to happen.”

“You’re going to get grey before you’re even thirty.”

“Shut up and tell me your news. Bad first.”

“Someone’s tetchy,” she teases, and he growls under his breath. “Okay fine. Bad news, there was a storm today, a black rain one, and it was bad. Some of the trees are burnt and from the sample I tested, the levels are higher than usual.”

Ice ratchets up his spine and he tenses. “The radiation is getting worse?”

“I don’t _think_ so,” she says delicately. “That’s part of the good news. When I went outside to collect a sample- yes, I was wearing the suit,” she interjects before he could ask, and it makes him smile, “The sky was actually blue instead of hazy yellow.”

He lets out a breath. “So things could actually be getting better then.”

“Maybe? The Geiger levels have been holding pretty steady though,” she says. “I think if anything the black rain was just the start of the last hurrah. The worst of things might be coming to an end.”

Bellamy leans back in his seat, taking time to absorb her words. Raven told them that the first four to five months after the death wave would be the hardest and once Clarke could get through that, she would be in the clear. He swipes a hand down his face, nearly shaking with the amount of nervous energy coursing through him.

“That’s good,” he breathes at last.

“I know. I can’t wait to stop being cooped up inside all the time.”

He makes a sound as though punched in the gut. “Saying shit like that is what’s going to give me grey hair before I’m thirty, Clarke,” he chides, and he just manages to hear her tinkling laugh over the speaker.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll even wear the stupid suit for the next few months when I go outside okay? I’m not going to get into any trouble.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” he sighs, slumping in his chair.

“Fuck you Bellamy.”

-

**_Day 0 (t-minus 5 minutes)_ **

Clarke couldn’t stop shaking her leg.

After Raven finally finished her last check of the rocket, she ordered them to pile in. It definitely was a tight fit; Clarke was halfway on his lap while Echo was pressed flush against his other side, hands bound.

“No seatbelts so make sure that,” she jerks her head towards the bungy cord she hooked up to run along the perimeter of the rocket, “Is across your chest at all times. Otherwise you might become dislodged during lift off and it’s going to hurt like a motherfucker.” She fixes them all with a stern glare before turning back to the control panel, getting ready to launch.

He rests a hand on Clarke’s thigh, still it, and she looks up at him sheepishly. “Relax,” he murmurs. He can’t touch her the way he wants to like this, with the suits in the way, so he has to settle for gently knocking the side of her helmet with his.

She immediately softens, leaning into his chest a little bit at his touch. “I just keep feeling like something bad might happen,” she confesses.

Bellamy pinches her hip. “Stop being so goddamn pessimistic,” he tells her. The gloved hand still on her leg squeezes it lightly. “We’re gonna be fine. We’re gonna have five years in space where you can teach me how to play chess, or raid the Ark’s digital library, or do whatever the hell you want with me.”

He can feel the breath she takes, and the way she tucks herself further into him as she settles. She picks his hand up off her thigh and laces their fingers together once more.

“We’ll be fine,” she says, repeating his words more to herself than anyone else. He can feel the fine tremor pulsing through her. “Everything is going to be fine.”

It’s just their luck that the second after she’s said those words, Raven curses violently from the pilot’s area.

She looks up at them, and he knows that it’s just not the glare of the lights bouncing off her helmet that’s responsible for the glassy look in her eyes.

“We have a huge fucking problem,” she says, and both Bellamy and Clarke tense, her hand going slack in his before suddenly squeezing it in a death grip. “The hatch can’t be opened remotely.” She swallows and Bellamy doesn’t think he can move a muscle, completely frozen in place.

“We’re trapped.”

-

**_Day 183_ **

“I think it’s my birthday.”

“You do? Wait, when is your birthday?”

“Early October. I spent my first birthday on earth throwing up blood in a bucket. I think. Honestly those couple of days were a bit of a blur, but I distinctly remember that part.”

“You never forget your first,” he says wryly, and she snorts.

“When is your birthday?”

“Mid August. I’ve never had one on earth before.”

“You will,” she says firmly. “Someday. I’ll even bake you a cake.”

“ _Can_ you bake?” he asks, intrigued, “Last I checked you had trouble roasting a squirrel for dinner. Clarke, you can’t even make _oatmeal_ properly.”

She sniffs self righteously. “I’ve been reading cookbooks.”

“Theory isn’t the same as practice. There’s a good chance you might set something on fire or give us all food poisoning.”

“Fuck you Bellamy, I’m trying to do something _nice_ here, dammit.”

“Alright, alright,” he laughs. “I’ll let you try and bake me a cake for my birthday. And I’ll make sure to have a medic on standby just in case-”

“You’re the absolute worst,” she tells him, and then proceeds to ignore him for the next half hour while he laughs out apologies.

-

**_Day 0 (seven hours after launch)_ **

No one said a word when Bellamy left the group as soon as they docked on the Ark. They all just watched him go with varying degrees of concern on their faces, but thankfully no one followed.

He's glad they didn't.

The minute he was far enough, tucked away in some secluded corner, he found himself punching a metal wall, hard enough that he feels it even through his gloves, pain skittering up his arm.

He does it twice more before slumping against the opposite wall, tears streaming down his face, his breath fogging up the panes of his helmet while his hand pulsed in pain next to him.

She was supposed to be _here_.

Here, on this stupid hulk of floating metal, ribbing him about being a grumpy old man. Here, with their friends, with _him_. Not stuck on the island being cooked from the inside out.

A sob tears free from his throat, and he kicks at the wall, trembling. It’s almost like he can’t breathe with the force of it, as though the weight of the entire Ark was pressing down on his chest, cutting off airflow to his lungs.

Bellamy doesn’t care. Instead he just collapses there and _cries_.

This is where Monty finds him a few hours later, no longer crying but instead his head hanging between bent knees as he stares unseeingly at a spot on the wall. Unlike Bellamy, he’s changed out of the radiation suit and back into his Ark issued clothing- cargo pants, t shirt, heavy jacket.

“The oxygenator is up and running,” he says, breaking the silence. He walks further into the room before crouching down next to him, undoing the seal on his helmet. He gently pries it off, and Bellamy winces as the first gust of air hits his face, skin too tight with the feel of drying tears. “You can get out of this now.”

“Thanks,” he says, voice scratchy with disuse.

Monty doesn’t move, instead he settles in next to him, leaning his shoulder against his. “She’ll be fine,” he says quietly. “Clarke’s resourceful. And out of all of us she’s the only one who has a glimmer of hope for riding out the death wave. Not to mention that the lab is state of the art, and she has the bunker, and-”

He squeezes his eyes shut. “God, I know. I _know_ , okay Monty? I know that Clarke can take care of herself, I know that she’s the most stubborn pain in the ass ever who’ll probably stare death down until it slinks away. I know all of this but I can’t-” his voice breaks and he takes a shuddering breath.

“You can’t lose her,” Monty finishes gently for him, squeezing his shoulder. “I know.”

“She’s good at surviving and taking care of herself but this? We don’t even know what _this_ is.”

“She’ll survive this,” he says with such confidence that Bellamy almost wants to believe him.

He doesn’t know how to respond to that, and he swallows heavily. “I hope so,” he says.

Monty squeezes his shoulder once more. “Come on; you need to eat. Enjoy the dried jerky and nuts while it lasts because after that we’ve got five years of dehydrated soy packs and algae to look forward to.”

“I’m not hungry,” he lies. He can’t remember the last time he had an actual meal. The last thing he ate was a packet of berries that he split with Clarke. Just thinking about it makes his heart clench.

That doesn’t deter him; instead he tries a different angle. “Raven is working on getting coms up and running. If all goes well then we should be able to contact the island soon.”

He hesitates for a moment. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt…”

Monty doesn’t _smirk_ , but comes close to it as he holds out a hand to help Bellamy up.

Everyone has stripped down and wandered off when he enters the control room, working on fixing up one thing or another. Even Echo is out of the radiation suit and wearing a pair of jeans and a Henley, looking supremely uncomfortable as she aides Murphy and Emori in fixing the lights.

Harper presses a water skin in his hands as he passes and tries to flash her a smile in thanks. Meanwhile Raven is zipping around the room, keeping an eye out on everything as she works at the control panel. She barely glances at him when he walks in, just shoulders pass him to grab a socket wrench.

“The signal from the island is still up,” she says, ducking beneath the panel to fix something. “Once I get our systems up we should be able to talk to her. I wouldn’t hold my breath about Polis though.”

Bellamy licks his lips. “Raven,” he says, and she stops to peak out at him. “Thank you,” he says, mustering up as much sincerity as he could in those words.

She doesn’t even crack a smile. “Clarke is my friend too,” she tells him, “You’re not the only one who cares about her.”

The words aren’t said with any malice, but he still winces. “Still. Thank you.”

She responds with a grunt, and he leaves her be, finally accepting his share of rations from Harper who doesn’t let up until he eats all of it.

“Come on,” says Monty, “You can help me finish setting up the algae farm. We’ll get you some clothes on the way.”

Bellamy downs the last bit of water from his pack and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. “You do realise I was a guard on the Ark, right? I have no idea how to set up a hydroponic farm.”

Monty pats him on the back. “You can just hand me the tools.”

They do just that, Bellamy sorting through boxes of spare bolts and wires and handing him the correct screwdriver when needed, and Monty doesn’t pressure him to talk about anything. It’s nice having a distraction, something to take his mind off of the cosmic ache in his chest.

It doesn’t last long though, because merely an hour later Murphy waltzes in with news.

“Raven’s made contact to the island,” he drawls, and Bellamy drops a pair of pliers on his foot.

He doesn’t really remember making his way back to the control room, but soon he’s there, standing in the doorway, chest heaving, and Raven mutters something into the radio before handing it off to him.

His mouth suddenly goes dry as he grasps the radio in clammy hands, and he doesn’t even realise that he’s shaking.

“Clarke?” he asks, his voice cracking embarrassingly.

There’s nothing but a rush of static for one heart pounding moment and then-

“Bellamy?”

His eyes drift shut in relief, and his grip on the radio becomes almost vice like. He can’t hear anything over his pulse thundering in his ears, an echo of _she’s alive, she’s alive, she’s alive_ playing on repeat.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she says, and he’s glad there’s a chair nearby because he doesn’t know how long he would be able to remain standing. His limbs feel lead like, the tips of his fingers buzzing.

“That’s good.”

“Bellamy I-” she starts, almost desperate. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise,” he says, “It was- I don’t have to like it but you were right. This was the best call. You were the only one with a chance of survival.”

She laughs bitterly. “And now I get to survive down here all on my own.”

“If anyone can do it, it’s you,” he says firmly, and she sniffs in response.

There’s a heavy moment of silence before he whispers, “Five years.”

“I know,” she sniffs again, her voice wobbling. “Five years until I see you again. All of you. Hell of a long time.”

He tries to laugh, just for her sake but it comes out choked and forced. “Don’t forget me,” he says, attempting to joke.

“I could never,” she says, so serious that the hand holding the radio spasms while the other one curls into a fist on his lap.

For a second they’re both quiet, nothing but the hushed sounds of their breathing bridging the miles between them.

Finally, he wrenches his eyes shut and says, “May we meet again,” voice thick, and Raven pretends not to notice when he lifts a hand to swipe at his eyes.

Clarke doesn’t even make an attempt to hide the hitch in her breath on the other end, and it feels like someone has his heart in their fist, squeezing it until he can’t even breathe.

“We will,” she murmurs, so quiet that it’s almost lost amongst the crackle of static. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily Bellamy Blake.”

-

**_Day 247_ **

They don’t talk everyday, but that’s only because of little issues that pop up as time goes by.

Like the time a hurricane passes and completely knocks out Clarke’s signal.

It’s a whole week before she’s back online, and he spends the whole time being short and snippy with everyone else. For the most part they all give him a wide berth, except for Raven who’s there telling him things like hurricanes always do these sorts of things, and as soon as the rain clears Clarke is going to fix it and she’ll be back with them.

It’s reassurances for her, but it annoys Bellamy to no end, and they end up having a huge blow up which leads to Raven all but ignoring his existence for the next few days.

Thankfully the radio crackles back to life late on the sixth night of her silence, and he almost drops it twice in his haste to answer.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks for what has to be the millionth time in five minutes.

“I’m _fine_ ,” she reassures him, and he can just picture her rolling her eyes at him. “Earth is just a bitch, but I’m good. I got this. Now tell me about what I’ve missed. Is Harper’s hip still giving her trouble?”

He and Clarke spend all night talking by the radio, until she drifts off to sleep, nothing but her soft kitten snores to be heard, lulling him to sleep too.

Raven finds him there the next morning and wakes him up with a kick to the shins. “You have a bed,” she says pointedly, the first words she’s spoken to him all week.

-

**_Day 365_ **

“It’s been a year,” she says softly, and he find himself tracing his finger across the tablet in his lap.

He doesn’t think he could ever forget Clarke Griffin by any means, but it’s nice to be able to go through the Ark’s files and pull up her picture.

It’s hard to connect this girl with the one he knows down on earth. She looks so… soft. So small and soft and innocent, eyes wide with hope and he’s reminded of the first time he met her. It feels like it was lifetimes ago, the things that they’ve gone through together that entwines their souls.

“Four more to go,” he sighs.

-

**_Day 548_ **

“Happy birthday.”

“You remembered.”

“Course I did. Twenty years ago the most stubborn person in the entire universe was born.”

“Fucking _dick_.”

-

**_Day 671_ **

“Wanna hear a joke?” Bellamy asks, staring down at earth through the small window in the control room. He finds himself doing that more and more often, pretending that there’s something tethering him to Clarke there.

On the other end of the radio she sighs. “Is it going to be as bad as your history puns?”

“My history puns were a goddamn gem and you know it, Griffin.”

“They were _horrible_.”

He pouts. “Whatever. Do you wanna hear this one or not?”

She sighs again. “Fine, lay it on me.”

“Knock knock.”

“Really Bellamy? A knock knock joke?”

“You’re _ruining_ it, Clarke.”

“God, _fine_. Who’s there?”

“A broken pencil.”

“A broken pencil who?”

“Nevermind, it’s pointless.”

At first there’s no response from her, but, if he listened closely, he could hear the sounds of barely suppressed laughter and he grins victoriously.

“I can hear you trying not to laugh, Clarke,” he tells her, “Come on, just let it out.”

Silence and then-

A full on belly laugh where he can imagine her clutching her sides as tears stream down her face, the kind of laugh he hasn’t heard from her ever, so light and unrestrained, and it makes him grin wider, but it also makes his heart clench. He wishes he was there to see that. To see her face gets rosy and her eyes crinkle as she throws her head back.

When she finally gets over her laughing fit, she gasps out, “That was _terrible_.”

“So you say, but you also just spent five minute laughing because of it, so really. What is the truth?”

She just giggles again, and it leaves him feeling light for the rest of the week.

-

**_Day 849_ **

“I saw a bird today. It was bright orange, almost fluorescent.”

“That’s good isn’t it? That the animals are returning.”

“It had two heads and was missing a beak.”

“That’s… less good.”

Clarke snorts. “Yeah, that’s one way of putting it.”

-

**_Day 1095_ **

“Three years,” she says. “It’s been three years.”

“We can make it two more,” he promises. “We’re more than halfway there. The end is in sight.”

“I know it’s just… three years.”

“I’ll be back in two.”

-

**_Day 1294_ **

She breaks off mid sentence, going silent for so long that he starts wondering if their connection broke again when, “I miss you,” she says, voice raw and almost desperate.

It’s the first time either of them have said it and for some reason it feels like an even bigger admission that it’s supposed to be.

Not wanting to make a big deal of it, he teases, “Well it only took you almost four years to say that. You told Monty you missed him the first time you all talked.”

She gives a watery laugh. “Shut up,” she tells him, “I’m trying to-”

“Yeah,” he interrupts, “Yeah, I know, Clarke.”

She sniffs on the other side, drawing in a shaky breath. “I miss you,” she says again, this time with more conviction. “I miss you so, so much.”

Bellamy swallows. “I miss you too,” he says, quiet, staring out at the small window on deck. Earth is nothing more than a blue and white marble, half shrouded in darkness while the other half is in the light. He tries to figure out if it’s daytime or nighttime where she is. “I can’t wait to come back to you.”

-

**_Day 1461_ **

“We’re into the fourth year.”

“Almost there, Clarke. You can handle one more on your own like this.”

“The Geiger is reading lower each day, there’s fish in the water, I got bitten by a mosquito yesterday. I have never been so happy to be bitten by a mosquito, Bellamy.”

He laughs, low. “I’m sure the novelty will wear off soon.”

“One more year to go.”

-

**_Day 1693_ **

“Who was the largest knight at the round table?”

“Who?”

“Circumference.”

“You’re jokes aren’t getting any better with age,” she sighs.

“Are you calling me old?”

“Yes,” she says, unabashedly, and then giggles while he splutters in response. “And you better be careful. Raven told me that she’s thinking about floating you if she has to hear one more lame joke. Can’t say I blame her.”

“You’re supposed to be on _my side_ ,” he grumbles, and she laughs again.

“I’ll always be on your side,” she says, the edge of her mirth fading to give way to sincerity. “I’m always on your side Bellamy. Just not when it comes to your jokes.”

-

**_Day 1788_ **

“I’ve read every single book on this island,” she declares. “Every one, cover to cover, from the medical ones to the engineering ones to the ones about fucking gardening.”

“Proud of you. Meanwhile I’ve watched the same soccer match about a hundred times.”

“There is one book I haven’t read though,” she says, quiet and ignoring him completely. “Well, a few actually. The ones on Greek mythology.”

His mouth suddenly goes dry. “Clarke-”

“I want to read them with you,” she says firmly before he can even get another word in. “I want- when you come down, when you’re _safe_ and here with me again, then we can read them. Together.”

A muscle in his jaw tics. “Okay,” he says at last, letting out a breath.

“Good,” she replies, and then, after a minute she adds, “Tell me about your favourite one.”

“My favourite myth?”

“Yeah.”

Bellamy licks his lips, considering. Finally, after glancing at the image of earth through the window, he settles on one.

“Orpheus fell in love with a nymph named Eurydice and, a rarity for most myths, he remained faithful to her right up until her untimely death. His story is about how he sacrificed everything to go to the underworld to get her back…”

-

**_Day 1821_ **

“I’ll be home soon.”

“So will I, once you all touch down.”

Bellamy smiles.

-

**_Day 1825_ **

His hands are clammy as he tries to remove the harness strapping him in place. It takes him three tries before he could get it off entirely, and even then it’s a close call, almost forgetting to unclasp it from the loop attached to the seat.

Five years later and here they are, finally back on earth.

The radio crackles to life next to him. “Bellamy? I saw a ship fall out of the sky. Is it really- are you really here?”

He can’t help the ridiculous grin that blooms across his face at the sound of her voice, especially now that they were so close.

“I’m here Clarke. We made it.”

He thinks she sobs at that, hand over her mouth to muffle it. “I’m coming. Stay on the radio.”

“I won’t let it out of my sight,” he swears, climbing out of his seat to get to the door. Raven is already there, wearing her suit as a precautionary measure. “We’re opening the doors.”

“But what if the air’s toxic?” she teases, and he snorts as he pulls on his helmet.

“We’re wearing our suits, just in case.”

This time there’s no lever to pull to open the door. This time when the hatch is opened, he finds himself squinting against the brightness of the sunshine, and everything seems to be a blur of colour, somehow more vibrant and stunning than the first time around.

They’ve landed in a field, a couple hundred feet away from the tree line and he’s just trying to remember if the leaves have always been that green with Clarke comes through on the radio once more.

“I see you,” she says, bringing his thoughts to a screeching halt. “I see you, Bellamy, I’m coming from the north east woods-”

He doesn’t even let her finish, scanning the tree line before spotting the flicker of movement amongst it.

He barely has time to shove the radio against Monty’s chest before he sets off running, and he can tell the exact moment Clarke spots him, because she starts running too, golden hair unbound and glinting in the sunlight as it floats after her.

They crash somewhere in the middle, a tangle of limbs, and she throws her arms around him in a hug so tight he’s almost afraid that she might crush his lungs.

“You’re back,” she says, sniffling, grasping both sides of his helmet as she presses her forehead to the glass. Her eyes are brimming with tears and he knows from his blurry vision that his are doing the same. “You’re back.”

Bellamy pulls away for half a second to rip off his helmet, throwing it off to the side while she makes a sound low in the back of her throat.

“Bellamy, you don’t know if the radiation levels are-”

“I don’t care,” he says roughly, cutting her off, and then he’s cupping her face with both hands, dragging her mouth up to his.

It’s like kissing sunshine he thinks, or maybe even ten times better. The feel of sunlight on his face after five long years can’t even compare to Clarke, especially when she mewls against him, tongue flicking out to play when he sucks on her bottom lip.

It’s messy though, and sloppy too, because they’re both grinning so damn hard, but frankly, he can’t find it in himself to care. Not when he feels like he’s about to combust from happiness, not when that ache in his chest has finally disappeared for the first time in five years.

“You’re back,” she says, their foreheads pressed together. Her smile threatens to split her face in two and he can’t help but lean in to kiss her again, soft and quick.

Bellamy is sure that his matching smile is just as ridiculous, but he can’t find it in himself to care, not when he finally has Clarke in his arms again, whole and perfect and _alive_. He buries his face in her hair, just breathing her in, and she does the same, lips just ghosting over his neck.

“I’m back,” he murmurs, squeezing her tighter, “And I’m never leaving you again.”


End file.
